The author in Italy after her breakup. Courtesy of Savanna Swain-Wilson

When I first met Mark* in the employee break room at the restaurant where we both worked three years ago, the connection was instant. During that first encounter, we discovered a mutual love for The Great Gatsby, Anthony Bourdain shows, and making the annual pilgrimage to Coachella every spring.

He told me his dream was to open his own restaurant, and that he was waiting tables so he could scope out the competition. I liked that he had ambition and a sense of humor, so I made it a point to find him during every shift just so I could talk to him.

It was only a matter of time before our break room chats lead to dates—and for us to fall completely, unequivocally in love with each other. I never imagined in a million years I would leave Mark, who really seemed like my perfect match. But I did.

My relationship with Mark was pretty much ideal, but deep down, I still had an urge to leave.

Mark and I adored each other’s company and rarely fought. We had great sex, and often. We communicated openly and supported each other’s goals unconditionally. When I landed my first entry-level editorial gig, Mark celebrated with me rather than focus on the fact that it was unpaid. I became his biggest cheerleader when he decided to take business classes and even encouraged him to apply to school. We wanted to see each other succeed, and that alone made our love so genuine and pure.

Still, I couldn’t shake this weird feeling in my gut that something wasn’t right. Whenever I thought about the distant future, I fantasized about traveling the world, moving to New York City, and becoming a novelist someday. In every vision, I was alone.

It frustrated me that I couldn’t just ignore those thoughts and be happy with Mark. On paper, he fulfilled everything I wanted in a partner, and the future he offered me was promising. We daydreamed about buying a house in the Bay Area, where we lived, raising awesome, music-savvy children, and living happily ever after. His restaurant was going to sustain us financially so I could stay home and write as often as I wanted. Mark was already taking the steps to give me this incredible life.

It seemed ridiculous that I was even considering any alternative when I had it so good with him. But I knew I wasn’t living up to my full potential by staying in our relationship. Even though he encouraged me to pursue my dreams, I still felt like I was always compromising. I had to schedule specific time to write, the very thing I love most, because hanging out together ate up all our free time. Those free moments further disappeared when I picked up a new job to survive living in San Francisco, the city Mark adored. I declined amazing opportunities, like moving to Spain for a teaching job, brushing it off by saying he and I were going to travel there together someday.

I made these sacrifices because I believed what we had together would always be enough. But I had never really given myself the chance to find out if I could be more than enough on my own. Throughout my life, I jumped from relationship to relationship because I desperately believed true love was the only recipe for happiness. I never learned how to seek fulfillment from within because I always looked for it in other people.

Having doubts about our relationship meant I was finally challenging the idea that I needed someone else to validate my existence.

I ultimately decided to break up with Mark when I accepted that I would never truly be satisfied if I didn’t know what I was capable of without him.

When I told Mark this, he insisted we could fix things by giving each other space. I reminded him nothing about our relationship was broken—I just didn’t want it anymore. I had no reason to walk away other than a belief in my heart that I had greater things ahead of me as a single woman. This didn’t make sense to him, and he called me selfish and heartless for giving up on what we had. Maybe he was right, but it didn’t matter. For the first time, I wasn’t willing to compromise, and it was liberating.

“You’re going to regret losing this one day,” he said as I turned away to leave.

Well, that was a risk I was willing to take.

Breaking up with Mark was the most difficult, yet most empowering, decision I’ve ever made in my life.

In the aftermath of our relationship, I discovered how life on my own could be equally, if not more, fulfilling than the life we shared together. I focused on becoming the best version of myself according to no one's standards but my own and doing things I loved without restriction.

In the months after our breakup, I wrote more stories, articles, and poems, than I did during our entire three-year relationship. I drove the scenic route more often because I wasn’t rushing home to be with anybody but myself. Every night, I ate exactly what I wanted for dinner. Before, pineapple pizza wasn’t an option because Mark despised it. Now, it’s on the menu every week!

I also became a better friend, sister, and daughter because I had more time and love to spare. I said “yes” more often than “no”, and opened myself to new experiences without holding back. That meant taking dance classes even though I could barely hit a two-step and signing up for a 5K when I hadn't set foot on a treadmill in years. I even traveled to Europe and met new people while testing out my Portuguese, which I only started teaching myself four months before I left. Above all, I stopped being afraid of the unknown and instead started embracing the idea of possibility.

Yes, that includes romantic possibility. I'm open to letting love back into my life one day, but I no longer see it as an essential part of an incredible and fulfilling life. I'm working on making my life more than enough on its own, so that anyone who walks into it is a bonus—not a necessity.

And when I reflect on my time with Mark, I can't pretend I don’t have the occasional “what if” moment. Sometimes I wonder, What would life look like if I had stayed? I have no way of knowing the answer, but one thing is certain: I will always be grateful that I chose myself in the end.

*Name has been changed.

Savanna is a Northern California native whose favorite things include brunch, musical theater, and making friends in new places. If she's not writing, she's probably hiking, planning her next vacation, or making a mess in her kitchen. There's a 10/10 chance she would ask to pet your dog.

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